Call sign Khort: As military force, we must ensure favorable negotiating position. We have to accomplish as much work as possible so that Ukraine can dictate its terms

Author: Olha Moskaliuk

During the Anti-Terrorist Operation (ATO), Maksym, call sign Hort, was a reconnaissance soldier in the 10th Separate Mountain Assault Brigade. Now he is a deputy battalion commander in the 411th Separate Unmanned Systems Regiment ’Yastruby.’ He is experienced and well-trained. In communication, he is sincere and direct.

To record this interview, we met at the Squat17B cultural centre in the centre of Kyiv, where military personnel often gather, on 22 January, Ukraine’s Unity Day. This is how we started our conversation.

- What does this holiday mean to you?

- Remember, we have constantly been hearing narratives about Western Ukraine and Donbas. This division—like "divide and conquer." But Vyacheslav Chornovil, who advocated for a fully independent Ukraine, said that the East and West stand together. So, Unity Day means that there is no need to divide it. Ukraine is self-sufficient and indivisible. That’s what this holiday means to me.

- Indeed, this holiday is about unity. Viktor Yushchenko also tried to bridge the gap between Eastern and Western Ukraine, but then we got Viktor Yanukovych in power, and eventually, in 2014, the war with Russia...

- In 1991, we simply needed to hold on to our strength, stay united, not give everything away, and not fall for empty promises...

- From Russia?

- From everyone! The United States, Great Britain, and so on. What did they promise us, and what did they actually do? Now they are helping, but how? On what terms? They throw us handouts—a loan here, or Javelins that are already 20 years old. That’s not exactly the kind of support we need. So, in the end, we can only rely on ourselves.

- But we are still dependent on our partners’ support. Donald Trump has now come to power in the United States. It is still difficult to fully understand what his next steps regarding us will be. The war continues. Fighting without proper weapons and essential supplies is, to put it mildly, extremely difficult...

- To put it mildly, yes, it’s extremely difficult. And not just because of supplies—we also have a manpower problem. If we talk about the infantry, it’s about having enough troops. The second issue is that in the third year of this war, I see things that simply shouldn’t still be happening at this stage. Things like incompetence, unwillingness to take responsibility. Just to give you an idea—I and my UAV unit had to serve as infantry for a week.

- Was there such an order?

- No. We were f@cked over—they didn’t tell us that there were no infantry ahead. We are experienced people, so we figured it out. But we didn’t abandon our positions. We were the last to withdraw.

- Did you suffer any losses?

- No human losses. Only UAVs. We could have tried to avoid that as well, but given the circumstances, I was satisfied with this outcome.

- Tell us how it all happened. So you found out there were no infantry ahead. What happened next?

- The situation was much more complex. This happened in a de-occupied territory. The battalion had a designated defensive sector it was responsible for. Between us and the enemy was a natural barrier—a river. Our job was to keep watch and ensure everything was under control. Then, one "lovely" night, the Russians quietly started crossing over in single rubber boats. They scattered in small groups and hid in basements. That’s how they usually build up forces before launching an operation. They had artillery and drones supporting them, and they slowly started advancing. The battalion wasn’t prepared for this. Communication with the infantry was lost immediately. A single Mavic crew couldn’t cover the entire line or track everything that was coming. As a result, the front line was simply wiped out. And we were caught in the middle of it.

- Did you have the opportunity to withdraw immediately?

- We didn’t withdraw because we wanted to give those who remained a chance to get out. Lately, we had been using FPV drones to support the infantry, which was nearly encircled. Instead of carrying ammunition, we were strapping dry rations, water, medical supplies, and radios onto the drones to deliver them. That’s how we helped them. We also provided fire support.

- I take it there was no possibility of evacuation?

- No, there wasn’t. That’s why we were the last to withdraw, hoping we could still get them out. Some we managed to evacuate, others we couldn’t. We were relieved when small arms firefights were raging in the forest near us. Thanks to a neighboring battalion, we were able to get out.

But overall, there are issues from the fighter all the way up to the battalion commander. Everything has to be built from the top down. The battalion commander needs to step in and figure out what’s wrong—first at the headquarters level, then with the company commanders, and only after that go down to the soldiers and has to build a functional chain of command, establish proper working relationships where you can rely on someone, delegate a task, and be sure that it will be carried out.

- This is one of the most important tasks, right?

- It’s the foundation! That’s why I was surprised. In our world, in the 411th Separate Regiment, what’s happening in this battalion simply doesn’t exist. I know for sure—if something doesn’t sit right with me, I speak up, and there is a response. That means my opinion is heard.

- I saw an interview with your commander, Andrii Sukhin, where he said that he communicates directly with soldiers who can approach him at any time...

- Yes. And I can generally approach anyone as well. This doesn’t mean that everything gets solved with a wave of a "magic wand." But at least all commanders stay in the loop. You know, it has never been particularly easy for me in the army because I tend to be a bit of a straight shooter. But here, when you bring up a problem, a solution is actually sought. By the way, I’m not the only one like this. Both 2022 and, before that, 2014 brought a lot of intelligent, conscious people into the army—people who hadn’t been shaped by the Soviet system.

- You were in the ATO, and you’ve been fighting in the full-scale war for three years. Comparing the two—it’s like night and day...

- Exactly, there’s no real comparison. Back then, a lot of things were unclear. Those were funny times. We were even working with paper maps. Let me give you an example of how things were. In the Luhansk region, I was a reconnaissance officer in a recon company. I was given the task of securing and clearing the village of Zolote so that infantry could be brought in. Our 66th "lawn" (a GAZ-66 truck – O.M.) was packed with a recon platoon. Armed with knives and pistols. And we all looked like "traffic lights"—we didn’t have proper uniforms, so we wore whatever we could. Like, the pants were "British camo," the jacket was "Multicam," and the hat was "Oak camo." Such people in gangs! So, we arrive at the village, checking the map, and the locals tell us that there are actually four different places called Zolote (laughs – O.M.). Guess they didn’t have much imagination when naming towns. We had to drive around all of them until we found the right one (smiles – O.M.), then we mopped up  it. Total chaos! But, honestly, the enemy wasn’t any better. They were also driving around, wandering around. The military machine was just getting started back then—like an old diesel engine in -20°C weather, sputtering, struggling, doing something, but not really working.

In fact, at that time, we had an unspoken competition in the army—who could get to Marinka first. There was zero coordination, no communication, and everyone was just crashing into each other.

- So who was the first to arrive?

- Hard to say. I remember the Donbas battalion was there because their reconnaissance unit captured me—for the first and last time in my life. They knew our group wasn’t the enemy, that we were on the same side. But they did it on principle—after all, this was their city, and we were operating there without permission. They: "Surrender your weapons!" We: "Nope!" "Get in the car!" Oh, that we could do—because we were dead tired of walking (smiles – O.M.).

- We gave you a lift!

- Yeah, they took us to the command and observation post. Called in our intelligence chief. The colonels sorted things out among themselves, and we moved on.

- How did you go from being a scout to becoming a pilot?

- I can tell you my story from the beginning. I've always been interested in the military. Almost all the men in my family, except for my grandfather, fought. Even my father was drafted into military service in 1989 and ended up in the special forces. He was sent to Karabakh and later to the "shooting of the White House" in Moscow, where they threw in conscripts. When I was about 17, I told my father I wanted to join the army. He asked, "So, you're going to be a janitor?" Because that’s what the army was like back then. So I went to study at the National Agrarian University, majoring in management. But I was always interested in history. My love for it came from spending so much time in villages as a child. I rode combines and tractors, chased horses, and constantly talked to the old-timers, who told me stories about my grandfather and our ancestors. My great-grandfather returned from the First World War without an arm and remained a blacksmith until the end of his life. Only the forge’s furnace was left standing because it was too difficult to raze to the ground. People also told me stories about the Germans being in the village. Both of my great-grandmothers were well-known cooks. They fed the Germans, the partisans, and the Red Army. In the end, they were executed. My grandfather always told me it was the Germans who did the shooting. And after the Revolution of Dignity, at Easter, he decided to tell the truth—that they were executed by Red Army soldiers after they liberated the village, allegedly for cooking for the Germans. But in reality, they were just cooks who fed everyone. The Germans gave them boots for it, and the Soviets executed them. But later, everyone was brought up on the narrative that you should never say anything bad about the Soviet government and the army! So I am grateful to my grandfather for finally revealing the truth. By the way, his great-grandmother hid the baby in the oven. Then the neighbors took him in. He stayed with them until my great-grandfather returned from the war. He was an artilleryman and fought all the way to Berlin. That’s why I became so interested in history. But I have never waved flags or supported any political party. Politics is a swamp, and I hate it. Yet, I vividly remember the footage from Crimea in 2014, when an armored personnel carrier smashed through the fence of a military base, and young conscripts, armed only with sticks, were trying to defend themselves while fulfilling their duty. I felt a deep sense of injustice—why was this happening? That day, I went outside—I had to cut down an apple tree. I lived on the outskirts of the city, near a military airfield. So I climbed to the top of the tree to trim the upper branches, and suddenly, our Su fighter jets started flying very low overhead. I found out later that it was the evacuation of equipment from Belbek. That really shook me. I was completely immersed in the atmosphere. I realized—this is it, everything's f#cked, I need to go to the military enlistment office (smiles – O.M.). At university, I submitted an application for academic leave. I was advised to switch to a part-time program so I wouldn’t lose time. I did just that. Then I went to the enlistment office, and that was it. MMC (Military Medical Commission) took only half an hour. They couldn’t mobilize me since I hadn’t completed conscript service, so I signed a three-year contract. I thought at the time: 'Okay, I'll fight for about a year and a half, then serve out the rest of my contract somewhere else—it’s fine.' And that's how I ended up in the Air Force. In Vinnytsia, there was almost no combat activity—only the Air Force and communications units. I requested a combat role and was assigned as a crew driver in an anti-aircraft artillery platoon. I trained, fought, and then the same thing happened that still happens today—due to manpower shortages in the Land Forces, an order was issued to reassign Air Force personnel to reinforce ground units. At that time, it was still voluntary. I joined for a reason! I learned how to sew name tags and fire an anti-aircraft gun. "So when do I get to fight?!" That’s how I ended up in the Ground Forces as a driver-crewman in a multiple rocket launcher battery—a Grad driver in the 10th Separate Mountain Assault Brigade. I thought I’m diving straight into the deep end! War-war! When I arrived, I went into the tent, where there was a personnel office and handed over my documents. The brigade was made up of those who had managed to escape from encirclements. It was commanded by Vasyl Zubanych, who had led his men out of Debaltseve while wounded. My company commander was a soldier who had distinguished himself during the operation to break the siege of Luhansk airport. The core of the brigade was solid—ideal for an assault unit. They saw me—dressed in uniform, clean-shaven, sober. "We have one simple rule—if you're sober, you're going to recon." "No, no! I’m a Grad driver!" But I still ended up in the brigade’s assault recon unit. They trained us well. And I became keen on this.

- Did you enjoy it?

- Absolutely! I still miss that team, our raids, and our missions. Every time I crossed the infantry line, I thought, I’d never want to just stand there and "take it". I’d rather maneuver in the chaos than sit in a dugout waiting to get shelled. Besides, I had complex tactical tasks to figure out. That’s the kind of challenge I always enjoyed. Here, you can really prove yourself. Because war is what? The art of outplaying your enemy.

- UAVs are also reconnaissance...

- But back then, there were no UAVs. We moved on foot, took notes in notebooks. We didn’t shoot. On our way back, we mined everything. We returned and reported on the situation.

You know, our regular officers were guys even younger than us. But the platoon commander led the group and got us through. When lame @ss happed the way, everyone looked at him. If he stayed calm, we felt calmer too. It was amazing! When I was a reconnaissance soldier, we operated without losses. There were only wounded. Our mission objectives were always very clear. Before every mission, we were always thoroughly briefed and discussed everything. At that time, I think hardly anyone else operated this way. And even now, it’s not always the case.

After our third rotation, someone managed to get us a small plane—something completely new and exciting for us. A small group of us got together, intrigued by it...

- Was it a Mavic?

- Mavics didn’t even exist back then. This was a small, homemade plane built by a children's aeromodelling club in Kyiv. Volunteers loaded it with electronics and strapped a GoPro to it using electrical tape. You programmed it to take a photo every three seconds and launched it. It would fly, take photos, and return. Then you analyze the photos and check the map to see where it had been...

- What year was that?

- Summer 2017. That’s how we operated. But at that time, I was still responsible for my duties as a ground reconnaissance soldier. After completing our missions, we had a couple of days off, which we used for flying. We realized how valuable it was and how much intelligence we were gathering. However, there was a small disagreement between the company intelligence officer and the brigade’s chief of intelligence. The former focused on the front line, while the latter looked at the bigger picture. We simply couldn’t cover everything. So I was reassigned to artillery reconnaissance, as we were providing them with a lot of intelligence. I was appointed as the senior sergeant of the intelligence collection and analysis platoon in the artillery reconnaissance and fire control battery. From that point on, I was working exclusively with reconnaissance aircraft. We had different types. Then we received American systems that provided real-time targeting corrections. I was supposed to go to the U.S. for training. The brigade commander asked me how much time I had left on my contract. I said seven months. He asked if I planned to extend my contract. I wasn’t sure. By 2017, everything had already started to wind down. So instead, they sent an officer. He turned out to be a great guy—he went to the U.S., came back, handed us the plane and a manual, told us to figure it out, and then went off to work at the military enlistment office. After that, I kept joking: 'I would have stayed for another seven months if I had gone to that training!'" (laughs – O.M.). After that, I studied at the Zhytomyr Military Institute named after Korolyov to become a specialist in operational-tactical UAV deployment. I built a solid foundation. I even received a UAV operator’s book—my course was the first to ever receive it. My contract ended, I was discharged, and that was it. When the full-scale war began, a friend from the SSU called me at five in the morning and said, 'Don't sleep! You’ll miss everything!' (smiles - O.M.). But I already knew everything the day before. On February 22, I went to the military enlistment office. I was returning by taxi from a friend’s birthday and stopped by on my way home. There were many officers on duty. One of them came out and said, 'We don’t know what to do with you. Just come if needed.' I was in the first-tier operational reserve and had a written order issued at the end of my service in 2017. It stated that in the event of martial law, I had to report to my unit in the 10th Separate Mountain Assault Brigade within 24 hours. The permanent duty station is in Kolomyia. You can imagine what it was like trying to get to western Ukraine on the first day of the full-scale war (smiles - O.M.). Impossible! Especially within 24 hours. So I went to the military enlistment office and asked what to do. They didn’t know. There were long queues, chaos, and panic. Then I remembered I still had my uniform. I went home, changed into it, and returned to the enlistment office—but this time, I went straight to the right cabinets and explained my situation. They directed me to the 15th school. There, on the stairs, I ran into a guy I had served with before. He assigned me as the chief sergeant of a mortar battery. I asked if we were getting weapons. 'Yes, they had already been delivered.' That works for me! Let’s go! And that’s how I ended up in the TDF (Territorial Defense Forces), even though I had no idea what it was. That’s how I started my service in the Vinnytsia battalion of the TDF as the chief sergeant of a mortar battery. We didn’t see any combat there. It was a privileged battalion in Vinnytsia that never deployed anywhere.

- So, were you maintaining order in the city or what?

- We were stationed at a checkpoint, guarding the hydroelectric power station. My guys were busy, constantly training. I explained that they were infantrymen, and we needed to know how to operate a mortar, so we had to learn. To keep them from messing around, I always found them something to do. There were no missions, nothing. And the war was still going on. I felt ashamed. Why did I even come here? I started looking for ways to transfer to my reconnaissance company in the 10th Separate Mountain Assault Brigade. But by the time I was trying, all my friends who had returned to serve there at the start of the full-scale war had either been killed or seriously wounded because they had fought in the battles near Kyiv. I sat there, thinking—who is there left to transfer to now?

Then I kept looking for options. Again, some mechanized brigades, but nothing worked out. I found my former chief of intelligence, who was already in charge of reconnaissance in the 65th Mechanized Brigade. He said: 'I need guys like you— roll in on armor and go full throttle!'  He sent in the letter of request for our transfer, but it never got signed. We were a small, small team—we didn’t drink, we were focused on work. At that time, I was the acting commander of a mortar battery because the actual commander had been drinking too much and got sent on an indefinite temporary duty leave somewhere. How could they let us go? But I kept requesting to be transferred. They wouldn’t sign off on it.
So I called the Commander-in-Chief’s hotline. No complaints—just told them I wanted to fight in my actual military specialty. I’m a reconnaissance soldier, a UAV pilot. And by that time, drone warfare had already taken off, so specialists were in demand. They told me: 'You’ll be contacted.' Then our current regimental commander calls: 'We need to talk. Come.' They covered for me in Vinnytsia, I got in a car, and off I went to Kyiv. We talked, and they told me about their plans to create a battalion of unmanned systems. Honestly, we were writing everything at bench scale. First, we were sent on temporary duty to the capital. We shaped our vision, recruited people through our networks, and developed a training program. The leadership actually listened to us. That’s how the first platoon was formed. Then we started trial missions in small groups...

- Where to?

- The first five guys went to Kreminna. The second crew, which I was already leading, went to Bakhmut.

- Was that already 2023?

- Spring 2023. That was when the battle for the only road into the city was raging—by then, it was basically on a "roll of the dice". At first, we learned to operate in small crews—providing support within larger units. Then we scaled up to full platoon operations.

-What were you flying?

- Mavics. Then we started modifying them for payload drops. That’s when strike operations began—completely different specifics. We gained experience, took it back to Kyiv, and focused on training. Our teams kept deploying across the entire front line. Each area had its own tactics, so we shared what we learned. Our platoon grew into two strike companies. We scaled up to the point where we were supporting multiple brigades. I’ll put it this way—everything in war evolves, but the UAV field is growing faster and wider than anything else.

- Absolutely! I know you’re already using artificial intelligence.

- Yes. Just like fiber optics. Now, as soon as a countermeasure is found, something new will emerge.

- Do we have air parity right now?

- Not everywhere, but in some areas, yes. We’re holding it.

- What about in your direction?

- A month ago, when I was still a company commander, my unit was fighting in three directions: Kursk, Kupiansk, and Zaporizhzhia. I’d say each one is different. First, the objectives and resources are different in each area. And the situations vary. For example, in Kursk, the front line is no longer stable, so the concept of a 'gray zone' is highly fluid and constantly shifting. Crews there are constantly maneuvering, changing positions up to five times a day. Sometimes they operate behind the infantry, providing support, or they withdraw from them when necessary. It was a new experience. In Zaporizhzhia, of course, the front line is stable, so heavy drones and FPVs are primarily used along the forward edge, while fixed-wing aircraft operate in the rear areas...

- Which of these three sectors is the most difficult? Can you compare them?

- It depends on who you're working with. That’s the key factor. In terms of the operational situation, the Kursk direction is the toughest. But there, we were side by side with our comrades-in-arms from the special forces and the air assault brigade. These are the guys who fight relentlessly. We’re on the same page with them in terms of thinking and understanding what needs to be done. It’s all on a verbal level—there’s no need to stand around discussing the plan a hundred times. We just jump straight into work and go. This mess suits us perfectly (smiles - O.M.).

- Where is the enemy pushing hardest?

- Everywhere. You can feel that they’re gaining momentum. Right now, there’s no such thing as a relatively calm direction. It just doesn’t exist. The enemy is advancing everywhere

-There’s a shortage of personnel on the front line. You mentioned this at the start of our conversation. Your regiment is actively recruiting. The commander told me about your multi-level training system: basic training, followed by specialized training, and then the soldier moves into combat training—starting by working alongside an experienced crew. Is this how you train newcomers?

- Of course! No one joins us without basic training. First, they are taught military fundamentals—what the army is, how to handle weapons, waking up at six in the morning, and all that. Then we send them to a specialized training school. We know quite a few, and we have direct contacts there. We reserve spots for our recruits. That’s where they get the basics—learning aerodynamics, how the control systems work, and so on. After that, we conduct an interview to determine where they fit best. For example, if someone says they’re passionate about aircraft, we assign them to our experienced flight crew. Even when a new crew is fully trained and ready for independent operations, they remain under close supervision. Losing equipment is one thing, but losing people is completely unacceptable. At night, no one sleeps until every team is back from their mission. We watch out for our people. We value them. We fight together. We’re all adults, we’re all aware of the risks, and we look out for each other. There’s no other way!

Look, I don’t want to downplay the achievements of other units I frequently work with, but I have no desire to leave my regiment. Here, I feel like I belong—I’m growing, I have a say in decisions, I can plan and expand our operations, and I have full support in doing so. There’s no disconnect between the headquarters and the unit. Sure, there are isolated points, as in any structured environment, but that’s just routine. We have no reason to complain. We’re evolving. There’s constant movement. You never stand still. That’s what makes it exciting! The path is tough, but it’s incredibly interesting.

- How do you teach newcomers to overcome fear?

- By leading by example. I’ve motivated many people to join the army this way. I don’t actively recruit. People ask questions— I answer. They take time to think it over. Then they come back and ask how to join us.

- How can someone join you?

- We have outdoor advertising, a website at www.411hawks.army_ and social media - Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/411hawks, Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/411hawks and Telegram: https://t.me/hawks411. We have a recruiter who receives and processes information. For more information, please call 095 411 0 411.

After that, the commanders take over. They select people based on their preferences and strong points. Recently, I saw a resume that said: I avoid routine tasks but fully engage in what interests me. That tells you this person is capable of a lot but needs to be engaged the right way. Okay, I have a job for that. We talk, assign a task, and evaluate. We always consider the human factor. We also have a rotation system: if someone is exhausted at the zero line, we try to transfer them to work in headquarters because logistics and support are just as crucial. At the same time, some soldiers get tired of routine and request a transfer to the front. That’s normal. Sometimes, people rediscover their potential—and that’s a good thing.

- President of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelenskyy recently stated that the hot phase of the war could be over this year. The newly elected President of the United States, Donald Trump, also frequently speaks about ending hostilities. In other words, such statements are being made constantly and from all sides. Meanwhile, the commander of the 3rd Assault Brigade, Andrii Biletsky, emphasizes that talk of a truce demotivates soldiers. How do you perceive all this

- Under what conditions would this ceasefire take place? Each of us has paid a price over these three years of full-scale war—with our lives, health, careers, families. And we did it consciously. Of course, the military will never allow capitulation. I speak with the military community a lot, and no one has even hinted that they are ready for such an outcome. Yes, it’s tough. Yes, we’re exhausted. But we are Ukrainians. We are a strong nation. Is this our first war with Russia? People should read history. We were 'very lucky' with our neighbor.

Of course, we are struggling with resources and losing territory. Any negotiations mean a pause. And after that, things could either escalate or become frozen. We could find ourselves in a disadvantageous position. War and politics are part of a much larger system. As the military, we must ensure a favorable negotiating position. We have to accomplish as much work as possible so that Ukraine can dictate its terms. Personally, I wouldn’t want to halt active combat operations. I want to keep fighting and doing everything within my power. I want to receive proper support, manpower, and resources to scale up. Right now, I’m engaged in a highly active defense, constantly ‘putting out fires’ wherever they emerge. But I want to push forward, to liberate our territories and our prisoners of war. I’ve been through negotiations before. And what did they achieve? As Kuchma used to say: 'It’s been done before!' Who is there to negotiate with? You can only talk to Russia from a position of strength. That’s the only language they understand. That’s why I don’t want to stop. From a strategic standpoint, regrouping and taking a break will only make the military complacent...

- Not just the military.

- Everyone! People are already too relaxed.

- You're in Kyiv now. How do you feel about it? My military friends often say that as soon as they see what life is like here, they immediately want to return to the front.

- I feel the same way. That’s why I’m heading back today (smiles – O.M.) to rejoin my guys. I’m one of those who have already been told: 'We didn’t send you there!

- Have people ever said that to your face?

- Yes. Although I was never the one to bring it up first. It was my decision. But I still heard it. There were times when I was heading home on leave from the Donetsk region, changing into civilian clothes and hiding my uniform so that no one would even suspect I was in the military. I’ve had panic attacks on crowded trains—because of the overwhelming sense of devaluation and disrespect. You stand in the vestibule because you can’t bear to sit in the carriage. But I don’t blame people. It’s the media that should be explaining that soldiers shouldn’t feel like they’re disposable—because that is deeply demotivating. Are the military tired of the war? Even more than civilians, but we don’t talk about it, we don’t give up, we keep working, we take pride in what we do. And no matter what public opinion says, we keep believing in our mission. You know, I don’t let people into my circle if they don’t understand me or if they belittle my experiences. I surround myself with people who support, value, and help me. That is a conscious choice. I won’t make the same mistake I did after the ATO when I tried to connect with people who had no clue what war was, yet I was careful not to offend their feelings. After the full-scale invasion, I cut those people out. Life in Vinnytsia is peaceful.

- I remember there was heavy shelling in the city center in the summer of 2022...

- Oh, please! I was there—searching for people, pulling them out from under the rubble, carrying corpses and charred bodies. So many people died. There were countless wounded. But then I saw something surreal: we had been running around all day, helping, and I arrived in another part of the city, covered in other people’s blood, reeking of death... and there were girls sitting in a nail salon, saying something like, ‘Oh my God, what was that explosion?’And I still had those images burned into my mind. I got straight into my car and drove back to the forest where we were stationed. I didn’t even want to see that kind of reaction. How can it be possible?

But you know what keeps me going? The fact that there are a lot of people like us. We are stronger, smarter, and more capable. And we know exactly what we want and what we are fighting for. So we keep going.

Olha Moskaliuk, Censor.NET

Photos are provided by the hero